


I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain

by Loki_Slytherin



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Cutting, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, No Fluff, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Past Torture, Past Violence, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29466909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Slytherin/pseuds/Loki_Slytherin
Summary: Nick is really struggling after what happened between him and the dark lord. Perhaps more than anyone can seeTagged non con but it's all in the past
Relationships: Nicholas Scratch & Sabrina Spellman, Nicholas Scratch/Sabrina Spellman, The Dark Lord | Satan/Nicholas Scratch (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Nick gazed into the mirror. His reflection gazed back at him, mocking his weakness and lack of strength.

A thousand thoughts overwhelmed him. He should have been stronger. He shouldn’t have allowed Lucifer to do as he desired. He shouldn’t have given everything up, surrendered his body to be used as a human prison. He should have kept silent and allowed anyone else to offer.

Because if it had been someone else, Nick would not be here, now, like this, alone and abandoned. Nick would have been able to face his demons better. He would have been strong enough. He wouldn’t have been this pathetic mess that he is now. He would be able to look Sabrina in the eyes without just being able to see her father.

There is nothing worse than looking in the eyes of the girl you love and seeing the man who tortured you gazing back.

Actually, Nick thinks to himself, there is worse than that. There is the actual pain you have to suffer first, and that pain is what causes looking into her eyes to be so damn painful. When he looked at her, all he saw was Lucifer. When he kissed her, all he felt was Lucifer's hard lips on his own, claiming him as his own. When he spent time with her, he felt like he was drowning in the memories.

Nick gazes into the mirror, and all he sees is Lucifer reflected back.

Nick sees Lucifer everywhere now. In everyone and everything. In his days he sees Lucifer reflected in everything he does, and in his sleep, the nightmares take over, trapping him in the memories, forcing him to relieve everything that happened. Nick can’t separate fiction from reality in his dreams, sometimes people or places blur together.

“Fuck off.” Nick snarls at the mirror, at himself, at Lucifer, at the memories.

Maybe, Nick thinks, he’d be better if he just left. If he moved away from Greendale. Perhaps he could move to the neighbouring town of Riverdale and make his fortune running drugs for some of the many gangs the mortals had. Or he could run off to New York or Chicago, or skip the border and live in Canada. He could even go to Europe.

The thought is tempting. The desire to leave almost overwhelms him, almost drives him to action. But a part of him knows that running away won’t fix anything. Running away won’t stop the nightmares. Running away won’t stop the memories. Running away won’t actually make it easier to cope. Running away won’t help him.

Running away won’t undo what Lucifer did to him.

Nick pulls a knife out of his belt, raising the cool blade to his hand, running his finger alone the sharp edge, not hard enough to cut, not hard enough to make him bleed. Not yet. The knife feels so familiar sat there against his skin, as familiar as an old friend. The cool metal warms up. Nick pulls the sleeve of his sweater up, all the way to his shoulder.

Nick never cuts along his lower arms.

Cutting along his lower arms doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t give him the release he’s looking fir. Cutting along his lower arms reminds him of how fragile he is, how weak his mortal blood is, how easy it would be to slip and cut the wrong part and die. No, Nick doesn’t cut his lower arms. Not now, not ever.

Nick cuts his upper arms.

His upper arm is covered in scars. Four scars on his left arm, three on his right. Most of the cuts are shallow enough not to scar, but the ones that still mark his skin are from when he had a really bad day. Today might be one of those days, Nick thinks quietly. Today Sabrina saw him with the demons.

He knows he disappointed her. He knows he shouldn’t have even gone into Dorian's bar in the state he was in right now. He knew that this morning, when he decided to ignore common sense. Still, he thought, at least it was a couple of demons. Nick had been tempted to hook up with some south side serpent from Riverdale. Sure, maybe he had cheated on her, but at least it wasn’t with an actual person.

At least, that’s what Nick tries to convince himself of. But he doesn’t believe that, not even for a second. In some ways, hooking up with a boy or girl from Greendale or Riverdale would have been worse, because Sabrina might have believed he cared about them. In other ways, it might have been better, because they wouldn’t have been monsters.

But at least Nick chose to spend his time with these monsters.

At least he wanted what those demons did. At least he wasn’t completely helpless, forced to submit no matter how hard he fought, at least those demons listened to what he wanted. They only hurt him because he told them too.

Nick brings the blade up to his arm and cuts down, letting the blood flow.

The blood sparkles, glowing a vivid red, deep as a soul, pure as crystal clean water, innocent as a newborn baby. The blood falls from his arm, dripping down mournfully, the physical pain inside Nick coming to the surface. If the pain was written all over his skin, it wasn’t all just inside him, eating him up from the inside out. If the pain dripped out of him, entombed in tiny red drops, then it wasn’t his fault no one could see how much he was hurting.

If Nick was being honest, all he wanted was for someone to acknowledge that he was in pain.

Then maybe he’d find the strength to cope. 


	2. The drinks of Dorian Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gets drunk. And I suck at chapter summaries.

Nick walked away from the bathroom, away from the horrible mirror. The mirror reflected himself, and he hated it for doing that. The mirror showed to Nick how he looked to others. The mirror did not lie, a pure and careful reflection of how Nick looked.

Nick barely recognized the man in the mirror. Nick barely recognized himself any more. He barely knew who he was previously, and he had even less way to know how to find his old self. He wished he had a map, a map to help him guide his way out of this mess, a map to show him how to find himself.

Perhaps if he could find himself, he would not be so much of a disappointment.

Perhaps if he could find himself, he’d stop hurting those around him. Perhaps if he could find himself, he’d be able to be with Sabrina. Perhaps if he could find himself, he would be able to hold himself together. Perhaps if he could find himself, he would stop screwing everything good up. Perhaps if he could find himself, he would be able to be the man that Sabrina deserved.

But there was no map to guide his way.

No map to show him how to find what was buried deep within him. No map to lead him out of this hell. No map to show him the way to Sabrina. There was no map to help him. There was never anything to help him, ever, never anything or anyone, save for himself, drugs and drink, sex and pain. They were the only things that offered Nick comfort, the only things that allowed him a brief reprise.

Perhaps Nick ought to allow himself one of those comforts.

There is precious little comfort at the moment as it is. What is the harm in finding one more. He has already disappointed Sabrina, there is no one left to let down. Nick does not want to cause himself pain right now, his body is enough as it is. Sex doesn’t feel right, he still feels too guilty about last time. Drugs, while tempting, will cause him to lose complete control. Which leaves only one option. Getting drunk.

Nick leaves the church of night and walks the familiar road down to Dorian’s. The gravel moves beneath his feet, sharp and digging through the soles of his flimsy shoes. The cold night air cuts through his clothes, leaving him chilled to the core.

Better to be too cold than feel the burning heat of hell fire.

Better the icy sting of winter than the burning of hell. Nick couldn’t stand being to warm anymore. He used to hate the cold, instead spending al his days by the fire inside. Now, being to warm made him stressed out and feeling the sting of fire gave him panic attacks.

Dorian’s was almost empty.

Nick sat down at a bar stool and called to Dorian to get him drinks, every time he finished asking the art collector to get him more. The alcohol burned as it went down, but the burn was more similar to the burn of icy wind stinging the face than the heat of fire, so it felt strangely comforting. Nick felt his head becoming heavy, and his eyelids began to droop. He was so tried.

Nick felt like it would be nice to let his eyes drift shut and fall asleep, drifting off into slumber for all eternity, never having to think or act, never having to move. Being numb to whatever pain found its way onto his body. Anyone could hurt his body and he would not have to feel it. There was a pleasing peacefulness to that, Nick thought.

Lost in his musings, Nick was not aware of the four teenage mortals waiting outside the door. Two girls, two boys. Two witches, two mortals. Nick was not aware that Sabrina and Roz waited outside while Theo and Harvey walked into Dorian’s. He was not aware that Theo pointed him out to Harvey, and the two boys went outside to confirm to to Sabrina what she had feared.

Nick was also not aware of Sabrina, Roz, Theo and Harvey storming into the bar, completely ignoring the fact that neither mortal nor women were allowed entrance. Sabrina stormed over to him, ignoring Dorian’s feeble protests about this being men’s only.

Nick was aware when Sabrina pulled on his shoulders roughly. He jerked out of his drunk almost-passed out state, feeling cold fingers touching his back. Dread polled in his stomach and he let out a gasp, pushing her away and tumbling to the floor.

Lucifer, touching him, running his hands over his body, pinning him down, forcing him to submit, terrifyingly tender and yet equally aggressive.

Nick feels his breath catch in his throat, and he can’t suck enough air into his lungs. He can’t breathe, he feels like he’s drowning, or choking, of perhaps dying. Nick feels tears roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t have the energy to care any more. Let the world see him cry, perhaps that will show them that he isn’t in control.

Sabrina has initially jerked away from him, but now she returns, placing her hands on his arms.

“Don’t touch me!” Nick snaps, unaware of how hurt Sabrina looks, unaware of how aggressive he sounded. He just couldn’t bear any physical contact at the moment, especially not from her. Not yet, not right now, especially now when he’s trying to fight off a panic attack.

“Don’t get so drunk then!” Sabrina snaps back. “I don’t understand what the hell is wrong with you, Nick. I know you needed time, but don’t you think you’ve had it? I tried to be there for you and you just keep pushing me away. I don’t know what happened to you down there, but this, getting drunk, getting high, cheating on me, this isn’t the answer. Tell me what happened, or I walk straight out this door and you will never see me again.”

Nick looked away from her. Shame was washing over him. He didn’t want to tell her. He was convinced she’d see him as weak and pathetic, she’d pity him. She’d think he secretly wanted it, that he chose what happened, that he willingly -

But she was threatening to leave him forever if he didn’t tell her.

And deep down, there was a part of Nick that wanted to tell her, that wanted someone other than him to bear the knowledge of what had happened. Perhaps if he told her, she might find it somewhere in her heart to have sympathy for him, and perhaps her sympathy would help him find his feet again. Nick feels a rush of anger flow over him.

“Fine! You want me to tell you! I will. I sacrificed myself for you. To save you. Lucifer tortured me. Lilith tortured me. Lilith enslaved my body while Lucifer took my mind. Lucifer tortured me. He beat me, burnt me, broke my bones and cut my skin. He laughed at every little moan I let out, taking pleasure from my pain. He raped me. He broke me.” Now that Nick has begun, he finds he can’t stop. “You saved me, and I’, grateful, truly, Brina, I am. But you took me out of that place and expected me to be perfectly fine. You expected the boyfriend you’d had to be here, in one piece, perfect as can be. But I went to hell, Sabrina! I’ve been to literal hell and back, and I don’t even know how to be who you want me to be.”

“Nick- I’m so sorry. I had no idea that had happened to you.” Sabrina said quietly.

“No, you didn’t have any idea. Because you never asked me. Not once, not one little “Nick, honestly, are you okay?” you thought I was strong, but I’m not, I’m weak and pathetic and broken. I barely remember who I was and even if I could remember, I wouldn’t know how to be that person. I try to hold myself together, but when I feel myself spiralling, you aren’t there and the only thing between death and I is drugs and drink and sex and pain and doing stupid stupid shit that you don’t approve of. I self harmed. I cheated on you. I got high. I got drunk. Because you weren’t there to stop me. This isn’t your fault, but I can’t take you disappearing, and abandoning me, and still expecting me to be perfect.”

Nick stopped yelling, remembering that there was an audience all around him. Shame flushes over him, and he turned away from her, unable to meet the eyes of those around him.

“I’ve been a shitty person, Nick. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to believe that my father- that I – was capable of doing that to you. I told myself you were fine, and I was wrong to do that. I shouldn’t have let you suffer alone. You had every right to do what you needed and I shouldn’t have been so harsh.” Sabrina had tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Hey, Sabrina, don’t cry, please don’t cry. I didn’t want you to cry for me, please.” Nick feels immediately guilty.

“Come on. Lets go home.” Sabrina said quietly, offering her hand out to Nick. “I’m sorry I touched you earlier, I will be more careful. If you want to take my hand you can, or if you don’t that’s fine. If you don’t want to come with me, that’s okay too.”

Nick steels himself. He wants to take Sabrina’s hand, he just also dreads the feel of skin against his own. Nick bites his lip, unsure what to do. He pulls the sleeve of his coat over his hand, so that less of his bare skin would touch hers, and takes Sabrina’s hand in his.

He is surprised by how good it feels.

Holding her hand doesn’t make him shiver in dread. It doesn’t stop him from breathing, clogging up his lungs with fear. It doesn’t remind him of his time in hell, because it is nothing like it. Sabrina’s hand is soft and cautious, and he is completely in control, if he chose to drop her hand, he could.

Sabrina’s hand feels right in his own.


End file.
